


Riddle Me This

by Miss_L



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Stockholm Syndrome, Eventual Smut, F/M, Humor, but nothing non-con I assure you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 07:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2842310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_L/pseuds/Miss_L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki finds himself far from home and in an unfamiliar body, strange girls have strange ideas and sex happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyLestrade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLestrade/gifts).



> Firstly, this is mostly crack, so please don't shoot me. Secondly, I took a prompt and shamelessly abused it. Mistakes my own. Loki, not so much. Sadly.

_What is this sorcery?_ Loki thought as he landed on his feet, the whirlwind that had swooped him up continuing its journey and disappearing behind a building. There were noises all around him, which he recognized: cars, street vendors, police sirens. _New York,_ he guessed – probably quite correctly, because isn’t it _always_ New York? It was early, the sun hadn’t yet risen fully, but the streets were already busy and crowded. Loki stepped into the shadows of a nearby alley to catch his breath, but then he caught something else – a glimpse of himself, reflected in a puddle.

He froze. His beautiful – if somewhat greasy – black hair was gone. Instead, he was now a balding ginger with *shiver* curls. His dress, too, was unusual for the God of Lies. A plain grey V-neck T-shirt, skinny jeans and a leather jacket… Was he in Hell? Loki tried to conjure a mirror, but found himself without magic. _Perhaps it just needs to recharge,_ he thought placatingly, already on the verge of panic when even such an easy spell didn’t work. He leaned further down over the little pool of water. Something else was missing – or wrong. His face looked familiar, but different somehow. Gone was the hard expression, hollow cheeks filled out by exorbitant use of muscles which produce a smile, and his eyes clearly _not_ their normal green colour. Not even Tesseract blue.

Loki leaned against the rain-stained wall and closed his eyes. As bewildering as his outer changes were, inside, something felt even more wrong. As if he had left his body for a while, then come back to find it had been occupied by somebody – or something – else in the meantime. To his great horror and regret, the Trickster knew that feeling all too well. He had hoped, however, that it would stay a memory. A recurring nightmare that left him gasping for air when he woke up. Moaning one name, over and over again: Thanos. But this was no nightmare, this was real, and he would have to deal, like he always has. First, he’d need to find out who this _other_ him was.

With a sure stride, Loki stepped out of the shadows and walked towards the nearest internet café. He didn't even need to decide how to charm the lovely gentleman behind the tilt into letting him use one of the computers for free. As if of its own accord, his “new” hand reached into the back pocket of his jeans and produced a wallet. The name on the ID – Thomas William Hiddleston – told him absolutely nothing, but the open-mouthed and awe-struck way the cashier was looking at him suggested this “Thomas” might be at least a little bit famous. He put on his most charming smile and gave Glen (if his name-tag was actually his) the first credit card he could find. The young man looked ready to faint, but managed to give Loki the access code and direct him towards one of the machines. Having been able to connect with human minds last time he was here came in handy now – he knew exactly what to do with the array of keys and monitor in front of him.

Google, search, “Thomas Hiddleston”. He is flooded with pictures, links to interviews, IMDB and Wikipedia pages, a thing called “tumblr” (Loki has a vague recollection of Selvig accidentally ending up on that website once. It wasn’t pretty) and lots of fanart. Some of it really good. More than a “little” famous, then. Loki clicks the “pictures” tab, scrolls down – and freezes. He is staring at himself, but it’s all wrong. He’s striking a pose, and honestly, his face never looks _that_ intense. And is that make-up on his skin? Someone must have dressed up as him, but there’s more. There are pictures of him before he had ever set foot on Midgard. And they are accurate. Nobody could know what his old coat looked like! The Trickster clicks back to web results, then IMDB. “Avengers”, “Thor” (he almost gags when he sees his brother’s face), “Thor: The Dark World”. Loki sits back in his chair, cold sweat streaming down his back. What is going on?

Half an hour later, Loki is sick of looking at this “Tom”s face, and he has gathered enough information to pose theories. He logs out and walks back to the tilt. The youth is still somewhat breathless, but much more coherent as he asks for Loki’s – Tom’s – autograph. The real God of Mischief grits his teeth and scribbles down the signature he saw on one of the internet pictures. _Bloody poser,_ he thinks to himself as he walks out the door and sets his course towards the nearest metro station. He’ll need to have a hearty word with those Marvel-people. Perhaps get something out of it for himself, what with them having claimed rights to his life’s story. _And_ having put his stupid oaf of a brother first, making him, the great and bountiful God of Lies, Mischief, Fire and whatnot else, a secondary character. _How bloody well dare they!_


	2. Chapter 2

As his rotten luck would have it, Loki never reaches his destination. He remembers getting on the metro, and the hellish rush hour crowd of people buzzing around him like flies all the way to the 50th street station. He remembers getting off the train, and then- Everything goes black. 

Loki wakes up ever so slowly to find himself surrounded by darkness. For one eternal moment, the world slides to a halt as the man’s – god’s – insides turn to stone. He cannot be back. He _will_ not be back! He’d rather die. But then a distinctly Midgardian noise outside whatever place he’s in dissolves the illusion – whatever this is, he can handle. As his horribly limited eyes grow adjusted to the blackness around him, Loki moves about to assess the damage. Nothing is broken or even bruised. He has a nasty taste in his mouth and his hands are bound by what feels and sounds like metal shackles fastened to a chain, but otherwise, he is unharmed. _Strange._ An enemy would not have been gentle, and friends don’t tend to shackle each other to the wall of a darkened room. Well, _he_ would, but then, he’s crazy… Right?

The noise repeats itself – it’s a phone ringing. Beyoncé, if he remembers correctly. Or maybe Shakira. Something with hips and lying. The song keeps playing until Loki hears quick footsteps and a muffled woman’s voice answers.

“Yes. Yeah, I have him. Uhu, sure. Hurry up, he’ll probably wake up soon!” The girl giggles and Loki picks up the soft thud of plastic hitting a hard surface. He braces himself when he hears her approach the door(?) to his temporary prison. _Those humans are so stupid, thinking mere steel handcuffs will keep me!_ His fear is gone, and natural Asgardian arrogance takes its place. The girl stands no chance. But he’s also a warrior, and as such, prepared for the unexpected. Whatever that is. With a soft creak, the door is opened and a stripe of light lands at Loki’s feet. He stays as still as he can, slumped against the wall, peering at his ward through his eyelashes. She looks very young, and while her long hair obstructs a better view, he’s seen enough. Gawky posture, not fully formed breasts… The girl is a child, and he can definitely take on a child.

“Hello,” she says semi-confidently, hoping – or knowing? – that he will answer.

Loki says nothing, biding his time. The girl brings one hand up to the wall, then pauses.

“Close your eyes, I'm going to turn on the light.”

Loki scoffs inwardly, then curses out loud when the bright flash temporarily blinds him. _Ridiculous Midgardians with their weak bodies!_ The girl giggles again, then walks closer. It’s quite obvious that he’s awake, so the God of Lies abandons his ruse and looks her in the face. As soon as he can _see_ again, that is. He was not mistaken about her youth, but he realises that she might not be quite as young as she seems. There are no spots on her face – a sure sign of adolescence – and what he thought was a gawky posture is, in fact, shyness. There is a nervous energy about the girl, and a look around her eyes that is not at all reassuring. It’s… Manic. Loki should know, he’s seen it quite often in a mirror. He wonders, for just a millisecond, if perhaps his first guess would not have been better. Then he reminds himself who he is. And where he is. He would have been her king if it weren't for his _brother_ and his ridiculous little friends. And then _she_ might have been shackled to a wall in his castle. He feels himself smirk at that thought.

The girl smiles back. She’s half-way inside the room now, still somewhat wary to come too close. 

“What’s your name?” he finally manages. The more one knows about one’s enemies…

Another nervous giggle. She doesn't answer, just stares at the man on the floor in front of her as if she doesn't quite believe he’s really there. 

“I can’t believe it’s really you!” she says quietly, followed by yet another nervous giggle. That little mannerism is starting to get on Loki’s nerves, but he doesn't show it. Besides, despite the strange and possibly dangerous situation, he is flattered. Her idolatry is quite obvious. Still, the sooner he’s out of here, the better. New tactic then.

“My name is-“ he begins.

“I know who you are!” Her voice breaks just then. She shuts her mouth quickly, embarrassed, and breathes for a while to calm herself down.

“Tom Hiddleston,” she whispers, “In the flesh.”

 _Wait, what?_ Loki groans. This is not happening. Not only is he trapped in some teenager’s basement, she doesn't even give him his due, because she’s mistaking him for the man whose body he is somehow inhabiting! This really is too much. He closes his eyes briefly and grits his teeth. It’s hard to keep his wits about him right now, but it is much needed. So he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again.

The girl looks uncertain, like she’s just remembered something she forgot to mention earlier and doesn't know if now is a good time. Loki treats her to a fake smile and she beams.

“I realise this is a rather unconventional way of meeting your idol, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me after last time. I need to explain, you see…”

A single, universal word comes to the forefront of Loki’s mind as he listens to her gushed explanation of the never-ending stream of letters and phone calls. _Stalker._ He lets the flood of words come over him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the prisoner realises that this situation would probably have freaked out the true owner of this meat-suit, but after the things he himself has seen- Not so much. So he listens to her declaration of eternal and undying love with a benevolent look on his face, waiting for it to be over. There is one door and no windows in the room he’s in – basement, possibly. It’s rather empty, apart from a few boxes in the far corner. He’ll need to try and reach those as soon as she leaves. By the sound of her voice, it seems that the girl is running out of steam. She falls silent, panting and smiling hopefully. He nods. Then the bell rings upstairs.

“That’ll be Ul- my friend!” the girl utters and almost trips over her feet in her haste to let her co-conspirator in. “Don’t go anywhere," she adds with a wink, turns off the light and closes the door behind her.

 _As if,_ Loki thinks grimly.


End file.
